


Masquerade

by pulpriter



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Contrived fluff; minor spoiler for Season 3 regarding Mac, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 15:10:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4064542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pulpriter/pseuds/pulpriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gang warfare has broken out in Melbourne--and some other things go awry, too</p>
            </blockquote>





	Masquerade

**Author's Note:**

> Much sillier than the first paragraph would suggest. Absolutely contrived fluff.  
> Season 3 spoiler--minor--regarding Dr. Mac.  
> I don't own any of these characters, but I love them.  
> Please review, I love to hear from you.

City South Police Station was on high alert. A new gang had formed in Melbourne, and they were establishing their territory by targeting police officers. Tension ran high throughout the ranks.  
Constable Hugh Collins was concerned, but tried to follow the example of his senior officer. Detective Inspector Robinson had talked plainly and honestly with all the officers about the danger, had suggested ways to stay safe on the streets, and generally calmed everyone with his steady attention to the business at hand.  
Hugh had managed to convince Dottie to stay away from the station during this dangerous situation. He felt grateful for her common sense and made sure to call or visit to reassure her after every shift.  
It was just too bad Miss Fisher didn’t have the kind of common sense Dottie did. 

Since there was no hope of keeping Miss Fisher away from the police station, Jack took another tack: doing his best to keep her by his side. She had no client this time, she just insisted on being involved. He had driven her to the scene of an attempted shooting of a police officer; the officer had just been “winged” by the shot, but Jack hoped to find some evidence that would give the new gang away. Jack and Phryne combed the scene carefully, but found nothing that was helpful. At long last, they gave up. They returned to the police cruiser and started back to the station.  
As they waited on traffic, Phryne noticed that Jack was tapping his long fingers on the steering wheel. She had seen him do it before; it always seemed to happen when he was wrestling with some important issue. It belied the outward calm that he presented. Phryne knew he was very concerned about the men who worked for him, and for all the officers in the city. 

As they drove along, Phryne felt compelled to make an observation.  
“You know, Jack, you don’t put your hands in the right places.”  
He turned, with a look of weary—and wary—incomprehension. “What?”  
“Your hands. They’re at 12 and 6 on the wheel. When I learned to drive, my instructor told me to put my hands at 10 and 2.”  
She got the hoped-for grin. “And you did as you were told? I’d like to meet this instructor. Maybe he could tell me how he got you to do that.”  
“She.”  
“Ah.” He made a great show of moving his hands to 10 and 2, but quickly reverted to his previous placement. “I don’t like it.”  
“Really, Jack, you can’t just go around making up your own rules. You being a servant of the law and all.”  
He looked heavenward, as if for help. “That’s a choice, not a law. And once in awhile—once in awhile—I do allow for a bit of imagination.”  
Phryne said dramatically, “I’ll let you get by with it this time, but it’s taking my life in my hands.”  
“MY hands,” corrected Jack.  
Cherry red lips curved upward. “Your hands, Inspector.” Jack sighed and shook his head.  
Phryne was pleased to have lightened his mood for at least a moment. 

As they neared the station, Phryne couldn’t contain her worry. “Jack, please try not to take any chances.”  
He turned to look at her. He was silent for a moment. “Just to be clear—are you asking me to be careful? To avoid taking any risks that aren’t necessary? To…stay away from dangerous situations if I can?”  
She smiled in approval. “Exactly!”  
It may have been the tension he was living under that made him snap. “That’s rich, Miss Fisher,” Jack growled. “Especially coming from you. How many times have I had to stand by while you stepped in front of a gun?”  
She went on the defensive, of course. “I take calculated risks. There’s no way to control this risk to you.”  
“Calculated! I could name a dozen times when you walked straight into danger!” They pulled up to park beside the station house. The Hispano-Suiza was not far away. “How about taking an axe to an electrical cord? How about getting caught on the Pandarus?” Jack slammed out of the car, irritation clear in his every movement. He headed around to open the door for Miss Fisher, but naturally she did not wait for him. She was out of the car before he got to her side.  
He continued, “How about offering yourself to Murdoch Foyle? That wasn’t a calculated risk, it was suicide!” Jack was really working up a head of steam.  
Phryne pulled herself up to her full height (admittedly not that much) and stood toe to toe with Jack. “And I’d do it again! You walked in not knowing the danger you were in. I had to do it! And while you’re complaining about me trying to keep you safe—you put me in a jail cell!”  
“And I’d do that again. As if it did any good.” They glared at each other.  
“Fine! Do whatever you want! Obviously nothing I have to say makes any difference.” Phryne spun on her heel and headed toward the Hispano. Jack stalked off toward the station house door. Just then, a car barreled around the corner. Jack turned toward it, out of habit. Someone in the car yelled “Bloody copper!” and a shot rang out. Phryne watched in horror as Jack fell facedown on the pavement. 

The door to the station burst open, and Hugh raced out, heedless of the danger, forgetting everything the Inspector had taught him. “Oh, no!”  
Phryne ran toward Jack in a panic. “Hugh! Call for an ambulance! Keep everyone else inside!” Hugh nodded and ran back inside to the phone.  
In the meantime, Jack had rolled over onto his back, groaning. “Jack!” Phryne cried out.  
“I’m all right…” He sat up.  
“I hardly think so!”  
“I took a dive. He didn’t get off the shot he wanted.” Jack leaned back on one elbow, peeling away his topcoat, suit coat, unbuttoning his waistcoat and spreading it wide to see a bloodstain blossoming out from his side. “I’ve seen this kind of injury before. He didn’t hit anything vital.”  
“Jack?” Phryne said softly. “Jack, you’re looking very pale. A sudden blood loss--”  
“It’s nothing to worry about. I’m fine,” he said firmly, and passed out.

The ambulance arrived not a moment later, and Jack was bundled into the back. Without asking, Phryne tried to clamber in with him, but the attendant stopped her. “I assume you are the next of kin?”  
Phryne blinked. “Why, yes,” she said. “That’s why I was here with him,” she added lamely. She didn’t mind the occasional falsehood, but this seemed like quite a whopper. But, she rationalized, they wouldn’t let her come with him otherwise.  
“All right. You can ride in front then,” the attendant said. Phryne favored him with a bright smile that was only a little flirtatious. 

Phryne paid dearly for her little fib. Once they reached the hospital, she was asked a barrage of questions about Jack’s general health, which she muddled through as well as she could. She almost forgot that his name was John, so accustomed was she to only using his nickname. When they asked for specifics such as address and age, she was inspired to claim that she had the vapors and asked if they couldn’t get that information from his driver’s license or his badge. But she almost ruined the entire scheme when she failed to answer as they called her in: “Mrs. Robinson?”  
After an awkward pause, the penny dropped. “Oh! Yes, that’s me! I’m sorry, I must be in shock!” She simply sparkled at all the attendants and doctors and they believed her, being just a mere woman after all.

After a brief time that felt like hours, the doctor met Phryne and told her that Jack would recover quickly. He had lost a lot of blood, but the bullet hadn’t hit any major organ. She didn’t have to pretend to sag with relief.  
“The gunshot wound was fairly straightforward. As far as passing out, fit chaps like your husband—all muscle, I mean—they tend to have low blood pressure,” the doctor said. “That’s all right, but a sudden blood loss like that can lead to loss of consciousness. That’s all I think it was.”  
“All muscle. Hmm,” Phryne trilled. The doctor looked at her strangely, but didn’t say any more, thinking she was probably a bit hysterical. 

Phryne had arranged for a private room for Jack, to soothe her conscience: she felt bad that their last words before he was shot were angry ones. However, she was irritated by the effervescent nurse who was assigned to Jack. The girl bustled around with an annoyingly cheerful outlook, chattering away when Phryne really just wanted a little peace. It had been such an utterly trying day! Of course, she had to admit, it hadn’t been any picnic for Jack, either; but he seemed to be resting comfortably enough now. It appeared that it would be some time before he awoke, so Phryne stepped out to freshen up and to find some tea. 

The bubbly nurse could hardly contain herself when Phryne returned. “I have wonderful news for you! Mr. Robinson is awake.” Phryne was glad to hear it, even from this vapid nurse, and she followed eagerly down the hall to Jack’s room.  
The nurse burst in ahead of Phryne. “Mrs. Robinson is here to see you!”  
Jack felt fairly fuzzy-headed but…“Is she?” he asked.  
The nurse stepped aside and there stood Phryne, looking a bit abashed. Nonetheless, she greeted him, “Hallo, Jack! It’s me,” hoping he would catch on.  
Over the course of a career in police work, Jack Robinson had trained himself to control his reactions. But he was only mortal, after all; and he had to put a hand over his mouth to cover his incredulous smile.  
Phryne came over to the side of the bed, and said _sotto voce_ to the nurse, “Perhaps you could give us a little privacy…”  
“Oh, of course!” The nurse obligingly left the room.  
Phryne sat down on the side of Jack’s bed, the better to disconcert him.  
“Jack, I had to do it. It’s just a little lie, really, and they wouldn’t have let me ride along or even see you if I hadn’t…”  
Jack was enjoying this immensely. “Phryne. I should know by now not to be surprised by anything you get up to. I’m sure I’m happier to see you than that other Mrs. Robinson.”  
Phryne preened a bit. “The doctor says you can probably go home tomorrow,” she said.  
“I’ll go home today,” he said. “I can’t lay about while there are officers in danger.”  
“Maybe I should call Mac to look you over,” Phryne suggested.  
“Good idea. I’m sure I’ll feel better if the doctor from the morgue stops by.”  
“Oh, very funny.” Phryne tilted her head and flashed him a sweet smile. “I’ll make her promise, no autopsy.”

In the end, Mac did not come by. Jack insisted on being discharged quickly and talked the doctor into allowing it. Phryne called Bert and Cec to come after them. They went to the station, where the Hispano still waited. Phryne felt a surge of anxiety as Jack got out of the cab and walked undaunted to the doors of the station, and she followed him in.  
“Oh! Sir! It’s good to have you back!” Hugh said. It wrung an uncharacteristic smile out of the Inspector.  
“Any news of the gang?” Jack asked.  
“Yes, sir,” said Hugh, proud that he had new information to give to the Inspector. “It appears that someone from one of the established gangs has killed the leader of the new gang.”  
Jack absorbed this knowledge. “Is that right? That may be the beginning of the end, then.”  
Phryne joined in. “It’s likely that the new gang will fall apart. They’ll have burned their bridges and have to leave town.”  
“I expect so,” Jack said. “Collins, we’ll need to stay vigilant, but perhaps we’ll be able to get back to normal in a day or so.” He started down the hall to his office. “Miss Fisher?”  
Phryne followed.  
Once inside, Phryne said, “I can’t be disappointed if the gangs have done your work for you.”  
“Odd sort of justice,” Jack declared. “But if it brings peace, maybe it’s the best we can hope for this time.”  
Phryne stepped close to Jack, and stroked his lapel. “I’d rather have them shooting each other than shooting you,” Phryne said, attempting a light tone and failing.  
Jack enjoyed the caress, but knew better than to make too much of it. He said off-handedly, “Just think—you’d have to break in a new detective.” It surprised him that she frowned instead of smirking. “Well, in any case, thank you for getting me to hospital, and, er, whatever else you may have done.”  
She recovered, and smiled like a Cheshire cat. “Anytime, Inspector. I love a masquerade.”


End file.
